Bitter Cold
by Temeraria
Summary: Two patrolling blood elves engage in combat. What happens when they underestimate their enemy? Slight 'World of Warcraft: Death Knight' refence in it. I own nothing but my characters, the rest is property of Blizzard.


With unsettling nerves, the petit figure spun around, her sudden intake of oxygen splitting through the eerie silence. She could feel how her brows furrowed with fear, and how her knees were impaled in the snow. She dreaded what was laid before her, years of training suddenly becoming insufficient. She felt useless; surely, those wicked Death Knight's would have her head even before she could utter a spell.

"Falah," the nervous elf whispered, not trusting her voice. "Is this really worth it, will we even make it alive?" her voice quivered with distant horror. Death was something she faced every day, but this was different. She could practically smell her death – her grave.

The black haired woman gave the nervous girl a gaze of disappointment. "Don't be ridiculous, Zalia, we'll make it back for supper. I promise," Falah couldn't help but tease her nervous partner. She was a confident hunter, always looking at the bright side of everything. She was blind sometimes, like now.

The petit elf named Zalia took in another shaky breath. Her cloth armor provided little protection. Whenever her gaze would settle on the approaching Death Knights, she could feel how that dreadful feeling heated her stomach's core. She felt arcane magic start to accumulate in her slender hands, she wouldn't take the chance.

"When are the reinforcements coming, Falah? We called upon them around 2 hours ago. Surely, they must've forgotten about us!" Zalia was frantic, her voice reaching a whole new level of concern.

The woman named Falah scoffed, her dragon pet growling with anticipation. "Look, Zalia, you have a natural talent for pessimism, let me tell you that. See? They're around five ghouls, two zombies and three Death Knights. They're probably injured from past battles, too! We'll probably be able to take them all down with an accurate attack. There's no need to worry."

Zalia would immediately feel relieved with her companion's words, but she couldn't shake off the feeling of dread that invaded her senses. "I – I still think we should retreat. They would understand, we're heavily outnumbered, either way."

It was too late, though. The undead warriors had spotted both elves. Zalia felt her wide pipe constrict alarmingly. Those eyes, those cold, miserable eyes that stared right into her soul – she had to run away.

"Time to take some action, yeah! Look, Zalia, you try to fend off those dead things while I kill of the larger ones, alright?" Falah was already gone, whistling for her dragon pet named 'Roc'. Zalia was baffled; all of their enemies were dead. When Falah referred to 'larger ones', did she mean the ghouls or the Death Knights? Riddled, Zalia had no other option but to summon whatever amount of courage she possessed within her shaken mind.

At first, she had cast the wrong spell; actually, she had _stuttered _the spell. The closest ghoul in range suddenly became a small snail, getting crushed under the sole of a battling Falah. Feeling her nerves hitch up, Zalia confidently spoke another spell. She was out of luck, as her voice broke ever so slightly, causing the spell to take a drastic turn. Instead of hailing spikes of ice, flowers randomly started to bloom around an unsuspecting troll Death Knight.

"Would you, ever so kindly- " Falah abruptly stopped speaking, shooting the human Death Knight another poisoned arrow. "- cast a spell correctly?" her voice hinted disapproval. Of course, she was technically fighting five enemies, three of them being immensely powerful.

Zalia swiftly apologized; it was a habit of hers, to apologize. After racking her mind for possible attacks, she settled for a basic attack. Taking her environment to her advantage – Zalia enchanted a fistful of clouds. Immediately, after she worked her magic, droplets of rain started to pour upon the battling figures.

A tired Falah croaked with surprise, she had underestimated her enemies. They were not wounded; in fact, they were in better shape than the two female elves. "What are you trying to do, Zalia?" Falah demanded, her limbs going numb with sheer cold. "If you're trying to slowly freeze me to death, well, you're doing a wonderful job at it!" The midnight haired woman snapped, she was really more concerned with the battle than the cold – it still got on her nerves.

Puzzled, Zalia shook her head with confusion. She didn't summon rain; she had once again tried to hail ice pikes on the enemy. Why was her magic being so stubborn? She was an expert mage, these kinds of faults were either induced or… well, that. There was no way she was able to screw up three spells in one go.

"Something is meddling with my magic!" It finally made sense. The aura that emanated from the masked Death Knight –the only masked one from the three- was interfering with her spells. "The one with the covered face!" She concluded.

Falah felt cold sweat run down her neck. The masked one? He was by far the most powerful of all four. Not even with the aid of Roc would she be able to take him down. Dodging the blow from the troll, Falah felt dread infest her system.

"You will learn not to underestimate the power of a Death Knight." With those words uttered, from an unknown voice, Falah's torso was greeted with hot metal. She was slightly amazed with this, her last thought fussing on the fact of how cold it was.

"Z-zalia, you were r-right," Falah coughed up a good amount of blood. The sword was extracted from her chest, in a very unceremonious way. Her already numb body nimbly collapsed on the snow, getting even colder. The Death Knight walked right over the fallen comrade's body, heading straight towards the frightened mage.

The mage had two decisions – fight or run. Her blood elf pride made her feel like a statue carved out of stone. She would not budge, no matter how much she willed herself to turn around and leave. She had sworn her life to protect her people, her race. Was it really worth all the hassle?

Feeling torn between loyalty and friendship, Zalia stood her ground. After casting a powerful spell, she aimed at the closest Death Knight. She knew this would be the death of her; it was all a matter of time. Five against one, definitely a great disadvantage. She inhaled sharply, her silver eyes going as wide as they would go.

Her magic was deflected with no more than the flick of a wrist. She was still shocked, her body quivering with dismay. Her hands swiftly clasped together, glowing with archaic magic. Zalia had no other option than to retreat, to alert the others and flee. Her gaze was immediately attracted towards the corpse of her fallen comrade. Her concentration faltered for a second, disrupting the spell's progress.

The pain that suddenly ripped across her shoulder was enough to remind her of the danger she faced. Her hands reached for her staff, but they were immediately caught within the vicious grip of the enemy. She was horrorstruck, her mind unable to process what had just happened. She could feel how tears threatened to fall; her mind counting every breath she wasted standing there.

"Mage," the masked Death Knight commanded, roughly grabbing her jaw. She was forced to look into his merciless eyes, frozen orbs of deception peering right into her soul. Zalia instantly regretted looking at him, her heart beat rapidly increasing. "Tell me, what is it that you strive for? You're as good as dead now, so tell me, what were you hoping the day you enlisted yourself into this war?" his voice hinted some kind of twisted amusement, but Zalia was certain all Death Knights were void of emotions.

She stared at him with parted lips, her voice gone with her dead friend. Tears leaked from her eyes, unable to suppress her ever-growing fear. It was then she noticed how weak she was, what a waste of time this had all been.

"I d-do not know," she confessed, her voice frantic. "My magic could've aided the horde, give them strength, and defeat the Lich King!" Confidence died within her as she spluttered lies. She had chosen the path of a mage, to prove others she was not weak and feeble as they had thought.

The vicious grip that once held her was gone, she felt relief flood her system, but everything was far from over.

"Very well," the Death Knight breathed. He then unsheathed his sword, heaving it right on top of Zalia's exposed flesh – her neck. Pain erupted throw her body, the gash that was placed on her skin making her collapse in a heap of bones and flesh. She could hear the echo of his words, right within her mind.

'_You're a bad liar.'_

* * *

Maybe it was how peaceful the snow looked, or how unaffected her body was towards the freezing temperatures. She breathed no more. War was something she had learned to embrace, something inevitable in this life-time. But she was not expecting this sight of gore, blood, and horror. Everything any living being could describe as terrifying littered the battleground. Ghouls, zombies, walking corpses, crawling creatures, they all advanced at an impassive pace. But she was perfectly at ease, her silver eyes void of any emotions.

"It is time, Zalia," a male voice instructed. The petit blood elf spun around with an indignant glare. Dull memories flooded her fuzzy mind, reminding her how cold it actually was. Still, she could feel the freezing temperature on her skin. It was that name that reminded her of that fateful day.

"Silence, Koltira, don't you ever call me that again. That name no longer belongs to me, which was the name of a weak mage. Now I am Zalah, a loyal Death Knight to the Lich King." She finished her statement with a swift growl. She felt the need for vengeance course through her veins. If only she had been stronger, she wouldn't be in this position…

Koltira stood silent, his eyes portraying no emotion. Instead, he turned around, leaving behind a bitter blood elf. "That's all we are, servants to the great Lich King. Do not forget that, _Zalah_."

The petit figure stood silent, embracing the undead man's words. She felt turmoil of emotions rise within her soul, sadness rapidly coursing through her veins. It was then the cooling sensation of numbness overrode her troubled mind. Hearing the words of her beloved Master, Zalah started to march towards the battlefield.

That's right, she was Zalah, a Death Knight. Nothing more, nothing less.


End file.
